


Necessary

by NapoldeInLove



Category: Tron (Movies), Tron - All Media Types, Tron: Legacy (2010)
Genre: Gloves, Happy Ending, M/M, Power Play, Rough Sex, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-04
Updated: 2012-02-04
Packaged: 2017-10-30 15:06:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/333051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NapoldeInLove/pseuds/NapoldeInLove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jarvis isn't gay, nor straight, nor bisexual--he's CLU-sexual.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Part One originally published anonymously on June 7th, 2011, on the Tron Kinkmeme.

"You need to take a break."

Jarvis looked up from his console, startled. The comment interrupting his report had emerged from his luminary's lips, shaped in a thoughtful frown. He glanced down at his console--only sixty-seven-point-three percent through the report, and there were significant details coming up--and back up at CLU. "I'm afraid I misprocessed that, sir...?"

The Programmer leaned forward, resting one of his elbows on the arm of his lounge as he gestured with one of his gloved hands. "You need. To take. A break. Seriously." He settled back, posture regal and relaxed and glorious all at once. "Have you even idled once in the last hundred cycles?"

Though he tried to stay calm, Jarvis was dreadfully concerned. "No, sir." He flinched when CLU clapped his hands and spread them out again.

"That's what I thought. You're going to crash yourself if you keep going on like this. Come on, program, take a break from your processing--I can't have you err and mess up your work."

Jarvis clutched at his console. Truth be told, he rather hated breaks. He used to take them, on occasion, but they always took him too far away from--from those brilliant blue eyes, that soft smirk, that lightly-stubbled chin. "Sir, if you believe this is the most efficient course of action, then I will." He bowed his head and his lower lip trembled faintly. Anything--he'd do anything for CLU's approval. CLU didn't seem to notice, turning towards the window overlooking the currently empty Gaming Grid.

"I do. You have no more than three microcycles to spend in free time--not much, as you are necessary to the system, but at least you won't fry yourself."

'Necessary'. It was a small compliment, but it made Jarvis swell with pride. He was 'necessary' in CLU's eyes! "I shall perform satisfactorily for you, sir." When CLU gave him the nod of dismissal, Jarvis dodged out of the room. He waited until he was a few hallways away before he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to memorize everything about the moment. Certainly CLU didn't care about him--he couldn't, he wouldn't--but to be considered a part of his liberator's great design--!

He hurried off, determined to show his superior exactly how satisfactory he could be.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The host tapped his cane against the stool, waiting for a response. "Well? Are you going to tell me or do I have to play affirmative-negative with you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part Two originally published anonymously on June 11th, 2011, on the Tron Kinkmeme.

It was one-point-three-eight milicycles later when Jarvis came to the crushing realization that he had forgotten how to relax.

Oh, yes, he'd quickly pulled up the sector for the highest ranking club on the Grid, and he'd bought something to drink, even, one of those pink libations, but even the wild, carried-away atmosphere at End of Line did nothing to distract him from the fact that he was nowhere near his liberator. He'd been invited to dance on no less than two occasions--though both times the program appeared to be a little too hyped up on energy--and each time he politely turned them down and stared at his cup.

Such antisocial behavior did not go unnoticed, apparently.

A white-sleeved elbow edged its way into Jarvis' line of sight. "Why so glum, love?" Jarvis glanced up, immediately recognizing from his research the owner of the establishment, Zuse--except this was public, and that was not his public name--what did he use again? Castor! That was it. Castor had sidled up to the bar beside him, smiling in a sickly-sweet manner. That face seemed so--disturbing! When CLU smiled, it looked broad and honest because he never faked a smile. Admittedly, a smile from him was a rare event--oh, he had been asked something, hadn't he?

"Glum?" Jarvis repeated. "Am I?" Castor gave him a look that said, 'yes, dear, and you're doing a shoddy job hiding it,' and immediately Jarvis' shoulders sunk. "Perhaps..."

The host tapped his cane against the stool, waiting for a response. "Well? Are you going to tell me or do I have to play affirmative-negative with you?" 

In response, Jarvis pulled his glass closer and frowned at the white-haired program, muttering, "Just try...!" Castor looked at him with those wide, blue eyes--CLU's, of course, were far superior--as he took in Jarvis' entire appearance and demeanor.

"It's... a girl," he guessed

"... Negative."

"Work?"

".. Affirmative."

"Someone at work." Jarvis didn't respond, but his circuits twinged brightly for a second. "Someone at work, but not a girl, eh? Where do you work, anyways--I mean, what area? It's obvious who you work for, chum."

"I... I don't have to tell you that!" Jarvis sputtered, embarrassed that he even started playing this game with Castor, even after he promised himself he'd keep it quiet. He turned away in his seat, fuming.

Not in the least bit discouraged, Castor signaled the bartender and said, "One of the specials for my friend here--make it on the house." He turned back to the steaming officer and grinned. "Come now, cheer up. You're here to unwind, aren't you? Just have another drink--couldn't go wrong with that, love, could you?"

\--

"CLU's so brilliant, and handsome, and--and--my glass is empty again..." Jarvis lifted his glass and looked at it, as if it was the second most concerning thing in the world. Taking the cup away before the officer dropped it and derezzed it on accident, Castor nodded sympathetically.

"Of course, of course," he said, tapping the glass against his cheek. The three "specials" Jarvis had downed seemed to be taking their affect rather quickly. "You want to attract his attention, but don't know how?"

The officer nodded sadly. "What could I ever do to impress him? To make him want me? Someone as... as... nice as him..." Castor tilted his head, rather confused, and Jarvis quickly clarified. "Not, nice-nice. As in, um, exact. A secondary definition."

"Ahhhh, I see what you mean," Castor said, very obviously not seeing what Jarvis meant at all. "You know, you look exhausted. You should take a few nanocycles of standby, hm?"

"No, no..." Jarvis replied, but as he tried to bring his processes back up to normal, to get alert, he took in a sleepy yawn. "Well, maybe."

"I have a private lounge area, darling, take that. I can wake you up in a few microcycles and you can get back to work, how's that?" The officer nodded and rubbed at his eyes. Yes, that sounded very good indeed. He'd rather not disappoint CLU by coming in un-refreshed, or drunk, or... or...

He wasn't really sure how they had gotten to the pile of pillows, but when he saw them he immediately flopped down. His last cognitive thought before he flickered into standby was that he didn't have a few microcycles to spare for sleep. Well, perhaps a timer would... help... that...

Jarvis' eyes shut and his circuits began to flash in a steady, slow rhythm.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jarvis awoke to shouting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part One originally published anonymously on June 18th, 2011, on the Tron Kinkmeme.

Jarvis awoke to shouting.

At first he couldn't hear a word of what was being said--all of his processors kept fritzing, leaving his head aching and vision blurred. Then he began to make out his name--

\--being said in that glorious, warm, fierce voice.

CLU?!

Eyes snapping open, Jarvis took stock as quickly as he could of his situation. He was nestled among pillows, white pillows, on a lit floor, near a wall--a door--a damper screen overlooking an open space, what would it be used for--a dance floor, perhaps--and a circular bar area--oh. So, he never left End of Line? That... was not good.

By this time, he could make out the words despite the damper wall. CLU, when riled up, could project his voice over even the largest cacophony.

"WHERE IS MY ASSISTANT?" the system administrator bellowed. The few programs still in the club cowered off to the side--all of them except for Castor, who was sitting on a stool, swinging his cane back and forth. Focusing in on the program, CLU surged forward and seized him by the front of his white coat. "WHERE. IS. JARVIS?!" Jarvis could tell Castor was trying to calm CLU down somehow, though he couldn't quite hear the words, but all that resulted from those petty placations was CLU shaking Castor several times as he yelled, "TELL ME!"

Whatever Castor said next caused CLU to let go and back away. Jarvis couldn't see his face, not from this angle, but the posture told him that his superior was not pleased. Shaking his head, CLU ran his hands through his thick, brown hair and turned part way towards the door. Though he had to duck down into the pillows to hide, Jarvis caught the most horrified expression on CLU's face--if only he could reassure him, somehow, someway! Castor said something, and CLU turned back, fists tightly clenched. Jarvis slipped forward, further now, until he could press his ear against the damper screen. What he heard next shocked him so much he almost fell straight through the screen.

"... didn't even see it coming. One moment, everything was fine--the next, the rebels attacked. I'm sorry, love, Jarvis's gone."

CLU shook his majestic head. "You're lying." Sighing, Castor hung his head. 

"If only I were." As he stumbled back down to a bench, CLU stared blankly at the ground--as if he were devastated, no less! Close after him, the white-haired host sat down next to him, tapping his cane on the floor between his feet. “I’m surprised you came personally for something like this. For just one program--!" He shut up abruptly when CLU seized his cane and flung it across the room. 

Settling back down, the dictator stared out the window at the dark city below. Jarvis could see how tightly his luminary had wound himself. The regal pride now tempered itself with sadness and disappointment, something he'd never been given permission to see, not once in his life.

"It appears you don't understand, Zuse," CLU hissed, spitting out the name with disgust. "I can't just replace Jarvis--it's not possible."

"And why not? He's certainly not the most efficient at his job."

"You don't know what Jarvis does."

"Announce at games? Give reports? There are a great number of programs that would be better at those, nay, perfect for those jobs--" 

"SHUT! UP!" With a scream of rage, pain, and grief, CLU seized Castor by the front of his coat once more and threw him away, sliding across the floor. As he stood, panting, manic laughter occasionally bubbling out of his mouth, his eyes focused up on the private lounge--

\--then narrowed as he made eye contact with his assistant, kneeling on the floor, paralyzed. CLU's demeanor changed rapidly; the rage stuck around, but pain and grief melted into a strange relief that looked foreign on that face. He pointed to the floor next to him. "Jarvis, you have till the count of eight."

Jarvis didn't even bother with the stairs, landing heavily on the floor below. He made it to the indicated point to stand at attention by the time CLU reached five. Trembling under the fierce gaze, boring into him as CLU circled around him slowly, he was only capable of staring at a non-existent point straight in front of him. Oh, User, he must be dead!

After the careful examination, CLU swiveled his attention towards Castor, who had clambered carefully to his feet. "Never pull a stunt like this again," he growled, causing the host to flinch away, "you glittering bit-brain." Clamping a hand down on Jarvis' shoulder, he guided him rigidly to the lift, fitting in one last glare as the floor beneath them sunk and they descended.

\--

During the first portion of the lift ride, the two of them stood in silence. Occasionally, Jarvis would sneak a glance at CLU, see the steely cold expression--always a handsome look, however much it terrified him--and then snap his attention blankly forward again. The fact that he wasn't yet dead felt strangely reassuring. If that were his punishment, he'd have ended up as pixels bouncing on the floor the moment CLU saw him.

"Eleven-point-eight microcycles."

The sudden speech jarred him out of his musing. "Sir?" His superior turned his head slowly to eye him.

"That is exactly how long you were gone," he said in a growl. "And do you recall how much time I gave you?"

Hanging his head, Jarvis responded, "No less than three microcycles." Now that he thought about it, CLU probably had another punishment in store. Perhaps rectification--?!

(But he was necessary...!)

CLU half-turned towards him--Jarvis could only tell by the way his golden-circuited boot shifted--and growled out, "You've got a lot of lag at work. The moment we arrive I want you back to work. You've had plenty of time to relax."

He hadn't, really, but it didn't matter. Standing next to his raging, seething superior, Jarvis was the most relaxed he'd felt in the eleven-point-eight microcycles he'd been gone. He bowed deeply in response to CLU. "Yes, sir," he said submissively.

"Then, once you've gotten back on schedule, you are to come see me. Got it?"

Flushing deep red, Jarvis nodded. "Y-yes, sir." Both of them held their positions, but the air in the lift changed--as if both of them were waiting for something? Jarvis started to squeak out, "Sir, I--" but his thought was cut off by the opening of the lift doors as both of them snapped to attention. He fell into place behind his superior, watching the long strides, the way the golden circuits shifted as he walked across the open area to a waiting Recognizer.

One thought flashed across Jarvis' head--CLU came personally to find Jarvis. Not sending out Black Guards to find him, but personally. He clutched at his chest, suddenly dizzy. Was he more than necessary, then?

Was he important?


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next hundred-or-so microcycles were hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part One originally published anonymously on June 28th, 2011, on the Tron Kinkmeme.

The next hundred-or-so microcycles were hell. 

First, Jarvis had to track down several programs who had abandoned their posts during the extended leave. All of them gave the excuse that if Jarvis wasn't at work then it had to be the end of the System, which was a terrible excuse for skipping out on their duties and they better get back to business before they were promptly derezzed, thank you very much.

Next, there were files that needed to be approved stacked up on his desk--requests for more memory allocation, information on rebel programs, this byte and that byte--! He handled it all rather quickly, though. Nothing displeased him more than working with the programs under him, as they only seemed to make things more complicated, but he could handle simplistic files such as these. Jarvis had been designed for the bureaucracy.

And then, finally, there was CLU.

He knew he had offended his superior by his reckless behavior and blatant disregard for orders, and now he was paying for it. In the few meetings they'd had since the incident, CLU had said no more than "report" and "leave" to Jarvis. The rest of the time, his luminary would stare out the window as if the words he heard were as coherent as Rinzler's purr. Jarvis barely even payed attention to the words coming out himself, so distraught he felt. At least CLU could let his brilliant gaze wander over Jarvis once in a while! Of course, though, Jarvis deserved nothing and justly received nothing.

The only thing that might worry him more than having none of CLU's attention would be to have all of it.

Eventually, Jarvis managed to tidy up the last stray string. He hesitated for a few moments--what would CLU say to him?--before he set his station to run without him for the next microcycle. Grasping his portable console, he strode along the halls, calculating all the risks and possibilities until he found himself outside the door of the private lounge between two guards.

"Program identified as Jarvis," the left one said. "You do not have a report scheduled, sir."

"I have orders to report to CLU as soon as my station's lag had been removed," Jarvis responded. The guard who spoke looked across at the other guard, then stepped back and let the doors open, allowing the officer to step through. He steeled himself, not wanting his superior to see the way his lip trembled or his face flushed as he approached. CLU, however, didn't even look at him--not that Jarvis could tell.

His luminary looked grand, fully suited up. His helmet gave an air of mystery, while his long coat exhibited his nobility. The relaxed air with which he lounged radiated confidence as bright as his golden circuitry. Jarvis wished he could reach out and touch that beauty, that perfection--but who was he? No more than a simplistic program who could never hope to approach something as wonderful and complex as CLU.

He must have made some sort of noise because the helmeted head snapped to face him. Jarvis gave a squeak and stepped back as CLU simply said, "Report," and looked back towards the window.

"S-sir, the lag at my station has been eliminated."

CLU didn't respond.

"… A-and everyone is back at their positions…"

Still nothing.

"… and so my spot can run without me for approximately one microcycle, if you have any orders."

The silence continued.

"Of course, you might not have orders for me--might never, really, after what happened, but just in case…"

Jarvis started to feel like CLU had fallen into stand-by.

"I'm sorry about what happened, and I'd never want to disappoint you, sir. I care too much about you to ever deliberately err--although clearly that isn't enough to prevent my accidents--but really, sir, please say something, anything, that tells me you don't hate me."

This was getting frustrating and embarrassing beyond all belief. 

"I could just leave, sir, if you'd prefer that, and go back to my post and we'll pretend I didn't say anything other than my initial report."

Every second CLU spent giving Jarvis the silent treatment was another second Jarvis felt like a failure. Eventually the dead air in the room got to be too much, for him and he bowed his head, miserable beyond words.

"I… I'll just leave, then, sir."

Jarvis had just turned to go when he heard the familiar sound of a helmet retracting. He turned back to see his superior glaring at him, faintly red-faced. "Did I say you could leave?"

"No, sir." CLU was finally looking at him! What a relief! Jarvis returned to attention and waited for an order.

CLU angled his head at Jarvis, deep in thought. Eventually he said, "Come here," and gestured towards the arm of his lounge seat. The officer stared blankly at CLU, who added, "Yes, that was an order." At that, Jarvis hurried to the indicated position--

\--only to be tugged down unceremoniously into CLU's lap. He was certain that his superior could hear the way all of his processes fired up at once, and if he couldn't, well, the wide-eyed shock on his face would tell everything. All he could think about now was how CLU was touching him--touching him--touching him--and how he'd never been this close to him and probably never would again.

When he finally fully realized what was going on, he found that CLU had adjusted him so that one lightly-stubbled cheek brushed against his neck and both gold-circuited arms were wound tight around his chest, hands splayed protectively over his back and identity disk. He wasn't sure what to do, so he shifted himself slightly, wrapping his arms around CLU's broad shoulders and occasionally stroking them. 

After a while, he felt CLU's head move and lift. "Did you know what Castor was going to say?" CLU said, his voice deep and weary. Jarvis shook his head, anxious for his commander. 

"I still don't know why he would say such a thing, sir." Except, of course, now that he thought about it, hadn't he said something about CLU probably not caring if Jarvis disappeared right off the Grid? But why would Castor try to involve himself in something that wasn't even his business?

"Castor is a sleazy little data-pusher, and he takes pleasure in false statements." He could feel his superior's hands twitch, which wasn't entirely reassuring when they were over his disk. "I don't know why I believed him for even a picacycle."

"Permission to ask a question, sir."

"Yes?"

"So, um, sir, you believed what he had said about me being… gone, then?"

"I…" CLU started to answer, then stiffened up. "Were you in on his ploy?"

Jarvis could feel his superior beginning to pull away, and it frightened him. He didn't want the moment to end. "No!" It came out as a gasp of horror, completely unrestrained and desperate, and Jarvis mentally kicked himself, first for sounding so needy and then for asking a question as stupid as that. No words ever satisfied CLU, he knew that!

Perhaps that slip in composure, though, was what stopped CLU and settled him back down. Jarvis felt one of the hands lift, brushing along the back of his neck. "Of course. You'd never deceive me, would you…"

"N-never, sir." The hand touched just behind the ear, then began to trace Jarvis' jaw.

"You already know the answer to your question, don't you?"

"I do now, sir. Erm... Permission to ask anoth--"

"Just ask."

"Why am I necessary, sir?"

CLU's hand stopped, and Jarvis was afraid he had asked a terrible question again. Then his superior leaned down towards the couch, pulling Jarvis prone under him. When they had settled, those clear blue eyes were staring at him, quiet and half lidded. He hated how the visor was blocking a perfect view of his superior, and he wanted so badly to have all of him, all of CLU--

"Because, Jarvis," CLU said, his mouth quirking up at the corners, "I find you necessary for my personal operation."


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It doesn't feel right. When they flirt with me, I don't feel like responding. I always thought I just wasn't built for outside functions…"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part Five originally published anonymously on July 1st, 2011, on the Tron Kinkmeme.

Users.

Jarvis hadn't expected that to come out of anyone's mouth around him, let alone directed towards him, and forget out of the perfect lips of his commander (who even said his name!). His mouth fell agape as he stared back, and he tried desperately to shut it--the look was idiotic--before he said something stupid in response to such a powerful confession. "You--you do?" 

Too late for that.

CLU laughed at the question, and Jarvis only had a few seconds to take in how glorious and high the laugh was before it was silenced as his luminary angled in his head and pressed his lips firmly against Jarvis'. All of the officer's circuits surged in response, and he moved his hands so he could run them along CLU's arms in appreciation. He knew about kissing, certainly, but it was a User custom, and in any other situation taboo.

If the Programmer asked him to deviate, however, Jarvis would whole-heartedly follow orders.

The lips adjusted, and every time they did Jarvis could feel the scrape of stubble against his mouth, the way soft tongue would slip out and press in. On more than one occasion CLU ran into the visor, making a small noise of annoyance as he did. After the third time, Jarvis reached a hand up and popped the visor off before his commander actually got upset and tried to rip it off. CLU ran his lips over the previously protected areas, and Jarvis couldn't help but moan softly at the touches. "Sir--oh CLU…"

As if the sound urged him on, CLU ran one hand down the circuits on the officer's chest, leaving a bright streak tinged with purple in the wake of his fingers. He sped up at the end of the stroke, finishing with a sharp snap that forced a gasp out of Jarvis, who could feel the resulting smile pressing onto one eyelid. "You want more?" CLU asked, and Jarvis nodded in desperation. The second time CLU stroked down the suit simply dissolved at the touch, exposing the finer circuitry underlying the uniform. Jarvis pulled himself tight against his superior, arching so he could grind against the still-clothed chest above him.

"Sir--! I--I must admit that--ah!" CLU lifted his head as Jarvis started to bumble his way through what he was trying to say, which gave the officer enough coherency to finally spit out, "I don't have much experience with this, sir."

"Not much? How much is not much?"

Jarvis' head lolled back and he closed his eyes. "N…none, sir." He heard the responding chuckle, and, for once in his long and mostly pathetic existence, he felt the way it passed up his superior, deep in his chest all the way to a short bob in his vocalizer before it escaped his lips.

"None at all? What, you never try to pick another program up at a club?" When Jarvis shook his head, CLU gave a smirk that was tinged with confusion. "Why not?"

"I…" Confessing why seemed so terrifying, but he had to confess it. He lifted his head, running a finger along the string of bars on his superior's chest as he whispered, "It doesn't feel right. When they flirt with me, I don't feel like responding. I always thought I just wasn't built for outside functions…" As Jarvis trailed off, CLU's little smirk faded away into a look of thoughtful observance. Had he ever payed this much attention to any of his subordinates? He remembered his earlier thought--yes, having all of CLU's attention was more worrisome than having none of it and he might botch this, if he wasn't careful. He licked his lips and continued. "… but even when you're here with me I feel like I can do anything, no matter what my programming is."

CLU curled his fingers around Jarvis' hand and pulled it up to his cheek. "Oho?" he rumbled, swallowing slightly--Jarvis could feel the way his jaw faintly clenched under his stubbled cheek--as he looked amusedly down at the officer. "Do you feel like you could do me, then?" Without even waiting for Jarvis to answer, or even parse the innuendo, his superior swooped back in and pressed his lips against Jarvis' hot and tight. Prying at CLU's coat, Jarvis managed to undo the front without too much difficulty, and received a few seconds of watching the twist of luminous circuits above him as CLU shrugged the rest of the way out before he was reclaimed again.

The red-circuited uniform was dissolving completely now, disappearing in swaths under CLU's wide-spread hand. Eventually, that hand reached a part of Jarvis that had never been touched--immediately he jarred forward, not only pressing the hand tighter against him but rubbing the finer circuits on his chest against his officer. "Please, sir!" he gasps in a break. "I want to see--"

"Patience," CLU rumbled, cutting him off. He dragged his hand heavily along the thickening form of Jarvis' budding erection, drawing out a senseless string of sounds from Jarvis' lips as he grazed the tight clusters of minuscule circuits. Stroking like that several times more, each time receiving a similar response, CLU started to chuckle. "You want this. You need this. Is that what you wanna say?" 

Jarvis nodded his head and whined, because that was all he had the sense for. His processes were overheating, and he writhed underneath the perfect, powerful body of his superior, gasping and flushed. If he had tried to deny his desperate desire--which would have been absurd--there would've been no hiding his body's reactions. His circuits had all frozen a warm purple the moment his luminary touched his erection. A shiver ran up his body when CLU's hand drifted lower and fingered between his exposed cheeks, and he braced himself against CLU's chest. "CLU--!"

"That's right," the administrator said in response. "I'm here, and in just a little bit I'll be inside you." The pointer finger worked its way in, and Jarvis made a strangled noise of pain. He was still wearing his gloves, that touched everything, held everything, and if they weren't making entry so rough and dry, Jarvis might have overloaded immediately from simply thinking about it. "The pain'll pass," CLU growled, working in his middle finger--and then the circuit on the middle finger sparked slightly, causing Jarvis to whimper in shock and arousal. User, that felt good! He couldn't help but dig his fingers in, even over CLU's circuits--but the rough groan he got as a reaction told him not to hold back. Pressing his fingers firmly against CLU, he dragged them down and listened once more to the sound he produced. CLU never made noises like that in public. When his superior leaned in and nipped his bottom lip, though, Jarvis backed down, content to simply run his hands run up and down the muscled sides of perfection incarnate.

The third finger joined and Jarvis gasped again. "CLU--please, everything--!" He bucked helplessly, crying out as the administrator complied and forced the last finger in, stretching him to his limit. "Ah--! CLU--!"

"Enjoying it?" The whisper was hot and rough in his ear, and Jarvis wanted that voice to be in his mind for the rest of his existence. He let out a squeak, which was his way of saying "Yes" without completely ruining the captured sound of CLU's voice. "Good. You're going to stay right here. With me."

Jarvis felt the fingers pull out, and he began to protest as CLU rocked back, away from Jarvis, but the half-mangled words disintegrated in his mouth as he watched CLU finally remove his suit, dissolving it into his skin to reveal the fine circuitry. Before, he could only imagine the glorious image of CLU's naked form; now, his liberator, his luminary, his leader and beacon was right there in front of him, circuits turned vividly purple, mouth twisted into the handsomest smirk. Jarvis moaned at the sight, gripping the cushions with his fallen hands. User, he wanted it all but would have died for just a taste.

CLU slid back down and ground against Jarvis, and the overheating form above him left crackling sparks everywhere he touched. Eventually, the administrator found what he was looking for, and poised his erection between the officer's spread legs. "I'm going to make you mine, Jarvis," he rumbled, gripping a hip tightly. Underneath him, Jarvis watched with a look of pure worship.

"I'm already yo--," the officer gasped out, but any other words were cut off as CLU pushed himself in and Jarvis let out a garbled scream of masochistic ecstasy. There was no way to describe how much it filled him--and it hurt, yes, but it was all CLU, every last byte of it, and he would take everything he was offered. One of his hands released the cushion and he snaked it up along CLU's arm, eventually burying his digits into the beautiful brown hair. He wanted to take in every sensation--the heat of CLU's mouth whispering possessively into his ear, the iron grip on his hips, the scrape of circuit against circuit, the snapping thrust that wear him down to pixels--and commit it all to memory, with multiple back-ups, under password protection--because he would never, ever let someone take the perfection of the moment away from him.

One jarring thrust of CLU's hips caused Jarvis' vision to flicker, and he threw his head back. "CLU--CLU--!" He hadn't even been touched in what felt like cycles, but the situation was so overwhelming he didn't even need it--he'd overload any second now, He wanted to warn CLU of the his imminent overload, but all he could wail was the name of his superior. The energy in his system was too much to bear, now, and he grasped at consciousness, at control, at CLU, but he was sliding surely into the infinite blue screen of the little death. He stole one last look at the face of his luminary, the regal features contorted into deep concentration interlaced with passion, and then let go of everything and crashed.

\--

Even the blue of overload could not compare with CLU's eyes.

\--

This time, Jarvis awoke to silence.

He shifted uncomfortably--he was sore in places he'd never been sore in before--and buried his face into the cushions. Why was he remembering--and the oddest thing--but it couldn't be a memory--! There was something draped over him, and not one of his usual sheets. Something light and soft. It smelled faintly of--

When Jarvis cracked his eyes open, he saw that the "something" was CLU's golden circuited coat.

Suddenly he found it very, very important to be awake. He rolled to one side and nearly fell off the couch--he was in CLU's viewing room?!--as he scrambled for his bearings. With the deathly quiet gripping the room, he thought he was alone, that CLU had left, but when he looked up, there was CLU, staring majestically out the window at the land below.

They'd interfaced. Right on the couch Jarvis was currently laying on. They'd interfaced. And before they had interfaced, CLU had told Jarvis that he was necessary, more so than he'd thought. And then after he said that, he'd kissed him, and then stripped him naked, and then--

CLU turned towards him, but there was no smile, not even a smirk on the handsome face. "Your microcycle is almost up," he said. "Hurry to your station, now."

They were not going to talk about it, then. Jarvis sat up and re-rezzed his suit, fingers lingering for a few moments over the circuit where he'd been touched that first time until he gave a small sigh and let his hand fall. He glanced around for his visor, finding it tossed aside on the floor, and quickly picked it up to reattach it. Standing up, the officer looked to his luminary nervously, waiting for something, anything about earlier.

"You're dismissed, Jarvis."

Definitely not going to talk about it. Jarvis grabbed his console--damaged, probably under their combined weight--and left the room. His expression did not change as he walked down the halls, not even a twitch away from perfect blank composure until he had reached his station, where he could bury his face into his arms on his desk and cry.

He hadn't just gotten to speak with his superior. He hadn't just gotten to touch his superior, either. For one too-short microcycle, Jarvis got to feel what it was like to have perfection inside him, to be a part of something truly greater than himself.

They'd interfaced.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wouldn't happen again. It was a fluke. Nothing at all. CLU just wanted to mark his territory, give him a lesson he'd never forget--that was what CLU did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part Six was originally published anonymously on July 25th, 2011, on the Tron Kinkmeme.

It wouldn't happen again.

Jarvis knew it wouldn't.

He told himself that several times as he tried to get himself calmed down. It wouldn't happen again. It was a fluke. Nothing at all. CLU just wanted to mark his territory, give him a lesson he'd never forget--that was what CLU did.

(Necessary to his personal operation--personal operation!)

\--

When he fell back into the same routine, the same level of fractional attention that he'd received before the Incident (as he'd come to call it), Jarvis felt not a drop or surprise. Disappointment, yes, because secretly he had hoped it had been the start of some whirlwind affair--but as long as he kept his expectation of nothing, he would never be surprised.

\--

As the days went by, his work load became progressively more and more strenuous. His beloved superior asked for greater efficiency, greater output from the officer, from the department as a whole--and what he asked for, Jarvis gave whole-heartedly. 

Even when it meant his underlings had to work beyond their standard capabilities--they'd proven themselves capable of stretching before, they could stretch themselves again. If they could catch up so easily after dropping behind, couldn't they press forward with the same enthusiasm?

Even when it meant Jarvis couldn't sleep for more than a few microcycles without falling behind--but really, who needed sleep? All he ever needed was a bit of shut-eye, in-between projects, and an extra shot of energy. Why spend his time imagining his work completed when he could be out completing it?

Even when it meant he couldn't see his luminary, the way his dark suit would cling to his muscled form, golden circuits tracing over the chiseled shape--couldn't listen to the way he spoke, voice rough-edged and deep but sprinkled with a high laugh--couldn't watch as he strode past lines and lines of stoic guards, inspecting each one for imperfection with his expert eye--couldn't feel him standing close, so close he could almost feel how hot those golden circuits burned--

On second thought, perhaps not everything was given whole-heartedly.

\--

"Sir, you called for me?"

CLU glanced back towards Jarvis as the officer entered the room. With a graceful wave of his hand, he dismissed the guards in back before resuming his observation of the lights of Tron City, a blue beacon in the darkness--brilliant, though not so much as its liberator. "Yes, I did. Take a seat on the couch."

A seat? On the--oh. "Yes, sir," Jarvis replied, hesitantly stepping over to the seat and settling down into it. When we the last time he'd touched this seat? Not since the Incident. Damn it to the Outlands, could he spend a picacycle around CLU without thinking of that?! He shook the memory out of his head and waited for his superior to give further orders.

"Your department has been doing well."

"Only our best work for you, sir."

"Even though I'm asking for so much?"

"It is not unreasonable, sir."

CLU turned away from the window, his gold-trimmed coat sweeping behind him as he started to circle around the lounge. "Hm. You've not had much free time, have you?"

"Serving you is all the free time I need, sir."

"What ever happened to you calling me CLU?"

"I…" The question was unexpected--he hadn't called CLU by his name, not to his face, since they'd--no, no, don't think of that--! "I--I--"

"Shh." Settling down next to him, the Programmer lifted a finger to Jarvis' mouth. "Don't get flustered." He let Jarvis get control of himself (which proved difficult with a finger that had spent a decent amount of time inside him pressed over his lips) before he continued on. "Tell me, what would you say if I told you that your department was an entire twenty-three microcycles ahead of schedule?"

Jarvis looked down at his hands, too embarrassed by the proximity to his luminary to say anything for a few nanoseconds. Eventually he stuttered out, "I s-suppose I'd have to ask when the schedule changed to cause this."

"Now."

The reply came out sharply and immediately, and Jarvis snapped his head up, freezing at the sight of those smiling blue eyes, their corners crinkled by some secret joke that only CLU understood. "N… now?" Jarvis echoed. He shook his head, confused by the development. "B-but how--when--"

"I've been planning this for nearly half a cycle. Now tell me, what would you do with twenty-three microcycles of free time?" Propping his head up, CLU leaned back against the cushions of his seat and raised an eyebrow. "And let's pretend you had permission to do anything for the period, hm?"

Anything. He could do anything at all… The officer didn't look away from CLU--was it a test of loyalty? Or perhaps one of competence? He'd already proven himself a failure when it came to spending free time. The only time he'd enjoyed himself was the microcycle he'd spent with… "I would like to spend all of that time with you, CLU" he whispered as his gaze finally fell down to what he'd originally intended to be his hands again--but if his superior would stop sitting with his legs spread…!

"Good, Jarvis," his luminary replied, his voice tinged with high laugh, "because that's how you're about to spend them. Shall we go to my bed and get sta--"

It may have been considered insubordination to at this point jump his commander, cutting off the rest of the question--but Jarvis could tell from the way CLU shifted under him, the way he slid those toned arms around him in an encompassing and greedy embrace, that once his mouth was released, the System Administrator would agree that the over-step was ultimately a minor one.

And entirely necessary.


End file.
